


A Line Drawn In the Sand

by MarceVampQueen



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Choking, Choking Kink, Corpo V (Cyberpunk 2077), Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Johnny is a dirty old man, Loads of it, Mild Suicidal Thoughts, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexual Tension, Shame, Strangers to Lovers, The domestic side of things, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Wet Dream, johnny is an ass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:27:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28100892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarceVampQueen/pseuds/MarceVampQueen
Summary: Where do you draw the line when you share your mind and body with another personality construct? Where does one end and the other begin? And how far can the boundaries be pushed before someone gives in?V has to ask herself these things as she learns to cope with the Night City legend, Johnny Silverhand, living in her head. Things had never been simple for her, and Johnny just loves to complicate things.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand & Female V, Johnny Silverhand & V, Johnny Silverhand/Female V, Johnny Silverhand/V
Comments: 18
Kudos: 230





	1. Wake up, Samurai

While working as a mercenary in Night City, V had thought she had seen it all after a while. Drugs, gangs, cartels, sex trafficking, illegal bio mods, the works. If Night City had a motto, it would be “Legends can be found in the graveyard.” Meaning that if you want people to remember you, you go out with a bang. And no one had embodied that motto more so in the last fifty years than Johnny Silverhand, to whom V was currently staring at, a ghost of his former self, literally. 

Waking up in a landfill was certainly a new experience for V and one that she had no intention of repeating if it was left up to her. If it had only been that simple. But of course, life never was. Or in this case, death. 

Three days after Vik’s diagnosis and with a new keepsake in hand, in the form of the bullet the ripper doc pulled from her skull, she was sitting on the edge of her bed, fingers laced and elbows on her knees as she watched Johnny flit around the room impatiently in unsteady streams of data. A living legend and a ghost that now resided within her own mind and body at the cost of new life. Or an un-death, so to speak. 

“How the fuck can you spend all day and night just locked up in here?” Johnny bitterly complained as he popped in and out around the room in quick bursts, some too fast for her distracted mind to track. She vaguely registered the resentful edge in his voice but said nothing in response, choosing to silently ignore him as she tried to find the remaining pieces to her now shattering life. 

Jackie was dead. She had died and come back but at a heavy cost. Her time left was borrowed at best and what little time she had left was apparently meant to be spent fighting for control over her body with a long-dead ex-rocker. The beta-blockers given to her would only do so much for so long. Eventually, something, no, SOMEONE, would have to give. 

But for now, as V grieved and adjusted to the sudden upturn her life had taken, she couldn’t help but notice how ironic it all had become. Growing up on legends of the man paled in comparison to actually having a fully aware construct of him in her head. She knew the world and the people in it could never be sorted into the black and white categories of ‘good’ and ‘evil’ so she attempted to temper her expectations of Johnny to reflect such. Doubly so since he was now in sync with her thoughts and she refused to inflate his already massive ego any further. But, in doing so, she realized that the truth to the man was so much harder to digest than any rumors or legends that danced around him.

He was exactly who she expected him to be, and yet, he wasn’t in the slightest. 

Brash, but choice in his words. Driven and intelligent, but utterly hateful towards anyone willing to get in his way. Selfish? Possibly. Egotistical, probably. But even with the snippets of memories and emotions that filtered from his consciousness, he was still as much of a mystery to V as anyone else walking the streets of Night City. 

For now, the only thing she knew for certain was that the man in question would reside in her mind and as a part of her until the day that “V” would cease to exist. She was stuck with him, and he with her. So, for her own sanity, she would have to find a way to get along with him to some degree, if nothing else but just to placate him. 

“Well, for starters, how about you get the hell out of this place for a while and start getting back up on your feet, Samurai. We got places to be. People to kill.” He baited as he lit a cigarette in hand, dark aviators throwing a sharp glint of sunlight across the glass and into V’s eyes. Shrinking back, she blindly grasped at the half-empty bottle of Tequila at her feet before taking a swig. 

“Fuck off, asshole.” She spat with a slight gasp as the liquor burned down her throat. “Last thing I need is YOU of all people judging me right now.”

“No, it’s the  _ first _ thing you need.” He retorted mid-drag, exhaling the smoke with a harsh sigh. “Along with a fucking shower. Damn, you reek.”

“Whatever,” She muttered, reaching for the bottle of beta-blockers on the windowsill. The conversation was already exhausting her and his lack of empathy, and any remotely helpful advice, was grating on her fraying nerves. 

A sudden slap to her hand knocked the bottle away, a stinging sensation on her skin as if she had just been electrocuted. The back of her head and shoulders then hit the glass window behind her as a cybernetic-hand pressed insistently at her throat, with just enough pressure to whisper deadly promises in the shadows of her mind.

“Don’t. You. Dare.” The words dripped like venom from Johnny’s lips. “Not unless you aim to make me change my mind and kill you right here. Right now.”

A taunt stayed poised on V’s tongue for a split moment, wondering how far she was truly willing to push him. Although part of her knew that he couldn’t  _ physically _ harm her, that did not mean that these mind games they played couldn’t. If the mind believed it to be real enough, it would tear itself and the body apart without another nanosecond of thought. And that was without another personality construct thrown into the mix. 

“Bite me, prick.” V groused out as she glared past her own reflection in his aviators. 

“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart.” He taunted as a smirk pulled at his lips, a dangerous lithe to his voice beneath the suggestive tease which made V flush hot under her skin. “Keep giving me that heated look tho…”

His words trailed off as he lightly tightened his grip around her throat. V’s eyes threatened to roll closed of their own accord, not from lack of air though, but from the hint of arousal that she felt surge through her. Tequila always did V dirty when it came to the ability to keep her libido in check, but after Jackie’s _ofrenda_ , it seemed like a fitting drink of choice. Now, she was deeply regretting the choice since Johnny had free reign on her thoughts and could read her like an open book. 

A light chuckle floated from his grinning lips, dangerous in all the worst ways. “Maybe later tho.” He stated unceremoniously as he released his grip on her with a quick shove, glitching out of sight the moment he turned on his heels. 

V huffed out in frustration as she let herself sink to the floor, scrambling to get a handle on her thoughts before they could fully get away from her. It was pathetic, she thought, letting him get to her so easily.

“Actually, yeah, it is pretty pathetic.” He shot as he suddenly materialized on the couch, cigarette in hand once more and feet propped up on her coffee table. “Not the fact that you’re a little closet deviant, tho. No, not that.”

“Then what is, asshole? Because unlike you, I’m not a mind reader.” V spat back, pointedly ignoring the bait he laid out for her. 

“Now that’s a load of bullshit,” He accused flatly without missing a beat, pointing his half-smoked cigarette in her general direction. “But what I’m talking about is this little pity party of yours. THAT. That’s pathetic.”

“Oh, fuck off! Since when do the  _ dead _ have a say about how the  _ living _ grieve?!”

“Earth to V, but you’re not exactly  _ living _ yourself. Barely. No more than a walking, talking corpse ready to flatline again at the drop of a pin.”

With anger coursing through her, encouraged by the liquor in her system, she pulled herself off the cold floor and strolled over to the lounging rocker. “Hey! If you haven’t noticed, I’m still here. I’M still alive. And at least this body is still MINE to do what I please with it.” 

“And I could live with that for now if you weren’t wasting what little time we have to find a solution to our little  _ problem _ before you check out for the final time.” He retorted, pulling his feet down from the table as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees while his cigarette continued to burn down between his fingers. “But, no, you’d rather sulk in your feelings than do anything about it.”

With a flick of the spent cancer stick in her direction, it dissipated along with him, and the nonchalant look on his face, the apartment suddenly quieting with his presence gone for the moment. 

V’s fingers drummed on her crossed arms, tongue in cheek as she mulled over his words. Fuck him, he did have a point; and for that, she resented him. She could already feel his smirk growing through their muddled connection, which only fueled her growing frustration at him. Taking a quick breath, she let it go for now and moved to the forgotten bottle of tequila.

Begrudgingly, she capped the bottle and stored the rest away for later before grabbing a fresher set of clothes. Clearing her mind, she headed for the shower, doing her best to ignore the prickling sensation of eyes on her, unabashed and pointed. At some point, she would have to approach him about her lack of privacy, but in the meantime, she would do what she could to ignore him. 

Deep down, however, it filled her with a sense of satisfaction knowing that he was watching her. Still, she let out a shallow prayer asking if she could at least keep that thought to herself, unaware of the lavish grin that pulled at Johnny’s lips in the back of her mind. 


	2. An Excercise in Restraint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V struggles with the lack of privacy and Johnny is always looking to push her buttons.

Outside her apartment, with the stench of exhaust fumes hanging lightly in the city air, V leaned against the concrete balcony as she thought about what her next move might be, the dull pounding of a hangover echoing in her skull. It was a rare event in itself that V would drink, let alone to excess. It was far easier to wake up in the morning and head straight into ‘work’ without feeling half dead and nauseous. But ever since Vik patched her up, no matter how ‘fine’ she was at that moment, she still felt like a shell of herself. A living, still breathing shell perfect for a parasitic engram to take root in.

“I guess it doesn’t help that you’re, well,  _ we _ are slowly dying,” Johnny added nonchalantly as he materialized next to her, lighting another cigarette before leaning back against the railing to stare up at the morning sky. “Best jump on that before you flatline in an unexpecting alley.”

“Ghost off.” V spat with a groan, burying her eyes in the cradle of her arms as Johnny’s senses threatened to spill over onto her. The smell of smoke coupled with the bright morning light made her gut twist in a knot. It didn’t matter if he was only a projection and his cigarettes were mere illusions in her head, her mind still registered it the same as anyone else around her; solid and real. “I’m  _ not _ in the mood.”

“Touchy thing aren’t you first thing in the morning?” He mused sardonically, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Maybe if you didn’t down over half a bottle of booze yesterday, you wouldn’t feel like horse shit.”

“This coming from yesteryears’ rocker boy who couldn’t do a show without being high as hell? That’s rich.” She shot back, feeling her stomach lurch as she pulled herself away from the balcony edge and headed towards the elevators. Immediately, she could feel a comeback posed on Johnny’s tongue but managed to cut him off. 

“And before you say a damn word, no, I don’t give a shit. You’re no saint yourself and I’ve seen the memories to prove my point.” Materializing next to the elevator doors, Johnny held up his hands in mock surrender, a sarcastic grin on his lips.

“Wasn’t claiming to be one, Princess.” He snarked before dissipating for the moment, leaving V alone long enough to at least ride down to the ground floor. 

With the dampened grind of rusty gears turning away in the background, V leaned her head back against the grated window, wondering how long she would have to put up with him before she reached the end of her line. She wasn’t exactly doing herself any favors already by drinking her day and night away the day before, but she figured that she was allowed at least one pity party before she forced herself back in the stirrups. Christ knew that she probably wouldn’t get another moment of peace for the rest of her life.

Already, she could feel Johnny buzzing away in the back of her mind, silent again but casually watching. Watching, waiting, judging; probably wondering how the fuck he got stuck with someone like her, his disgust apparent even though he hadn’t explicitly said so. She could put words in his mouth but all that did so far was bring him to the surface to correct her in that condescending tone of his. 

Reaching the bottom with an abrupt stop, V fished out her phone to scroll through her contacts in hopes of finding someone who could possibly help her with the biochip. What she didn’t account for, however, was Takemura’s name flashing across her screen. Bitterly taking the call as she fished out her shades from her jacket pocket, Johnny glitched into her field of vision again, a sardonic grin on his face.

“So, pancakes and bacon for breakfast?” V sneered at the suggestion just as the call ended, her stomach immediately twisting again at the thought.

“Not if I can help it. It’s biz only.”

“Who says you can’t multitask tho?” He pressed, somehow taking a small amount of sick pleasure in feeling her squirm with disgust. “Nothing helps a hangover better than some greasy-ass diner food. Trust me.”

“Let me guess, something you picked up from your  _ vast  _ experience on the subject?” She needled, strolling past him without another glance.

“The fuck you talking about?” His brows furrowing with a look of incredulity. “It’s the oldest trick in the book. Not like a lightweight like yourself would know a thing about how to treat a hangover tho.”

“If nearly two-thirds of a bottle of Tequila is considered ‘lightweight’ then I would hate to have seen your bar tab during your rocker days.” She shot back, feeling a sliver of pride bubble inside. She briefly wondered to whom the emotion belonged before shoving the thought down, not wanting to start questioning her sanity so soon. But, as it was, if anyone knew that she was walking with an engram of Johnny Silverhand in her head, she could probably be labeled another ‘cyber-psycho’ in the making; terrorist edition.

Johnny’s chuckle reverberated in her head, his physical construct absent once more, which made his detached voice all the more annoying while her migraine began to fester again in the morning light. And sadly, there was no off switch for either.

“Between that and the drugs, it was a wonder I still had the scratch to pay for the assault on the tower.”

V pointedly ignored him, despite the subtle grin that rose to her lips in response to his half-ass attempt at small talk. 

* * *

The meeting went about as fair as she could hope for, if not better considering that now she had a couple of leads that she could follow in hopes of figuring out how to separate her and Johnny. That, and the fact that a wayward truce had been made between them while they figured out how to go about the whole process. He promised not to actively try to kill her, even attempt to help her out if he thought she needed it, and her agreeing to give his suggestions and ideas a little more food for thought instead of outright blowing him off. 

Only time would tell though how well this  _ partnership _ of their’s would work out, and by the time V got back into her apartment for the night, she had a full mental list of ‘issues’ that she had to work out with Johnny; the topic of ‘personal space’ being at the top of her list. 

Crashing down on her bed with exhaustion, V pulled her arms across her eyes as the familiar buzz in the back of her skull made her aware of Johnny’s manifestation. So much for her  _ one _ moment of relative peace.

“Christ, V, can you  _ think _ any louder?” He bitched with a freshly lit cigarette in hand and a soft exhale of smoke. “If you got something to say, just fucking say it already.”

“Fuck off, Silverhand.” She groused, immediately dreading the inevitable conversation that Johnny, of all people, had just drudged up. She already knew the topic of conversation that he wanted to encroach on, but that didn’t mean that V was willing to talk about it just yet. “Still trying to get used to the whole ‘sharing a brain’ thing.”

“Heh, yeah right.” He bit back, sarcasm thick in his tone as he took another drag. “You’re a terrible liar, V, you know that?”

“But if I’m so fucking noisy, what’s the point of you baiting me into saying it out loud then?” Johnny shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly as he flicked the burnt ash off the end of his cigarette, a cocky smirk pulling at his lips.

“It’s more fun that way. Make you work for what you want.” V sighed in response, quickly running her hands through her hair before sitting up on her elbows to glare at the smartass rocker perched up on the edge of her kitchen table.

“You’re a dick, Johnny.” She deadpanned.

“And you’re a cunt, V.” He retorted, just as seriously, before the corners of his mouth tilted up into a lavish grin. “Maybe we’ll fit together after all.”

“God, you’re such a pig.” She groaned as she sat up on the edge of the bed, suddenly wishing she could just turn off her thoughts for a while just so that he couldn’t push her buttons. But even if she went for the beta-blockers, he’d just stop her, and she really didn’t feel like reliving the last experience quite yet. Not when her skin flushed hotly at the thought, Johnny’s grin growing wider in response. 

“I rest my case.” She added for no one in particular, ignoring the long list of crass comments that Johnny thought of in response as she pulled herself off her bed, strolling for the armory. 

“Don’t act like you don’t secretly like it.” He glitched to follow behind her, leaning up against the doorway as she unpacked and unloaded her weapons for the night. 

His response reminded her of that old saying from elementary school, ‘if he picks on you, it means he likes you.’; but V always thought that it was a load of bullshit, always had. A chuckle slipped from Johnny, disembodied but loud and clear in her head. It was clear that he doubted her, but if she rebutted then the endless cycle would start again; each one calling the other one out on their bullshit and both denying it fervently. 

V still thought it strange to hear him talking to her in her head, despite his lips never once moving to form words, and especially when she could see him in her field of vision like now. The effortless telepathy was more of a curse than a gift in her eyes though, even if it saved her from the swarms of stares that the psycho’s garnered from the general public, the ones talking to the empty air at least. V could learn to live with it if she had any idea of how to keep Johnny from overhearing everything going on in her head. Sadly, she hadn’t learned if such a thing was possible yet and Johnny seemed to relish in the thought of her getting so frustrated over something as simple as a little privacy.

“Hey, it ain’t all peaches and cream from where I’m standing either, you know. You try waking up in a body that doesn’t exactly have your standard  _ hardware _ if you catch my drift.” V shivered at the thought in disgust, her brain automatically meshing their existences on a curious reflex. It was as if she was within and without, one and same with him and yet separate all the same, her skin prickling with gooseflesh. 

“I think I’ll pass for the meanwhile. Strange enough having to share more than a few brain cells with a man, let alone some asshole dead rocker who’s stuck back in the 2020s, literally.” She sneered, static washing over her body as she breezed through him, the urge to shower coming stronger than before.

“Ouch, V. Seriously tho, let me know when you come up with something more creative.” 

Grabbing some looser fitting clothes, despite knowing deep down that it was pointless to be shy around a man who seemed to not give a single fuck about modesty in general, she threw one last glance at Johnny who had glitched over to his usual stance on the couch. “Do me a favor and fuck off long enough to get a shower in at least.”

“You know, most people would be willing to do  _ said _ favor if they were asked  _ nicely _ ?” He pressed, a teasing tone in his voice. V’s glare turned into daggers when she saw that proud smirk pulling at his mouth again, feeling his pride swell somewhere within her own self.

“Surprising that a man like you would know anything about ‘manners’.”

Johnny’s scoff said it all, but he still felt the need to explain himself.

“Darlin’, you can take the boy out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the boy.” 

V wondered what kind of cryptic bullshit it was that he was spouting before it dawned on her that Johnny was now a man outside his own time, and back in the 2020s, the South had just as much pomp and circumstance as the West Coast did, probably even more so after the war. She wondered if he was born there but decided it would be pointless to ask him. If she really wanted to know something without the risk of him yanking her chain, she could look it up later.

“Research? Fun. Always wondered what they would get wrong in my biography.” He mused while lighting yet another cig. V smothered down the building resentment she felt, crossing her arms over her chest as she bitterly reworded her earlier question.

“Fine. Can you leave me alone long enough to shower? And that means, no peeking, no trying to talk to me after I cross that threshold, nothing but peace and quiet.”

Johnny seemed to ponder for a moment but she knew it was an act, feeling his smugness through the damaged biochip lodged in her skull. She was about ready to snap at him for what he considered as ‘playfulness’ when he finally gave his response.

“Now was that so hard, V?” He teased and prodded at her, taking a sort of sadistic pleasure in watching her squirm, feeling down to the deepest parts of his coding. She gave him no other response except for an audible groan as she strutted towards the bathroom, taking ample note of his lack of either a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer.

“Fuck you, Silverhand!” She hollered as soon as she left his field of vision.

Johnny had half a mind to respond back in kind to her but decided to lay off for the moment. After all, she did ask, and he would let her have her moment of peace. For now.


	3. The Sin of Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V can't sleep and Johnny doesn't help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize again for the issues involving this chapter.  
> It has been heavily edited in comparison to the original one I posted so I hope that you will revisit it to see the updated version.   
> In the meantime, I will be working on the next chapter and plan to release it by Christmas.   
> Until next time.

Night had once again fallen onto the city, neon signs glowing brilliantly among the dilapidated streets as they hung above the ever-moving crowds. The energy after dark sat differently with V as she leaned against her open window, cool wisps of air fluttering over her while she casually watched the residents below scatter in all directions. The buzz of restlessness that the late hours brought seemed to energize her as well, and with it, a strange sense of peace more often than not. 

However, tonight, she felt no peace.

She was tired, exhausted even, but rest had not yet come to meet her. V was no stranger to insomnia, especially so as of late, but even she knew that she had limits. It was a constant race against the clock to find the right lead that would yield a solution to the biochip that was slowly killing her but after three days of constant movement, taking only the occasional nap in-between meeting times, she was quickly reaching the end of her rope. 

Off in the armory, her radio played softly in the background, the quiet music helping to dull the waves of anxiety that pooled beneath her skin. She chanced a look at her phone, the soft glow of 2:24 a.m. burning her tired eyes. Out of her peripherals, she could make out Johnny’s relaxed form on the couch, feet propped up on her coffee table as he nursed another imaginary cigarette.

“You actually get anything from those things or you just ‘smoking’ out of habit?” V questioned with tempered curiosity after watching him go through the equivalent of a pack and a half a day regularly.

“No. Not a fucking thing, sadly. It doesn’t help that I can feel how fucked up your nerves are right now either.” He bitterly answered, dropping his head back roughly onto the back of the couch. “Unless... you’re willing to light one up for me, that is.”

V wasn’t in the least bit surprised that he had asked her yet again to smoke for him. After all, he only brought it up at least twice a day; and each time she would tell him no, or later. It wasn’t the fact that she didn’t smoke at all, finding that the occasional cigarette did indeed calm her nerves, but it was the principle of not killing her lungs since her job required quite a bit of physical conditioning. Plus, it wasn’t every day that she could drop a fuck ton of eddies on a new set of lungs, not when a good chunk of her money already went to Vic for her regular patch jobs. 

Gazing at Evelyn’s jeweled cigarette case that Judy let her borrow for the moment, she sighed to herself before grabbing it off the table. “Just this once, Johnny. Better not make this a habit.”

“Shit, I’ll take what I can get at this point.” Despite the surly tone in his voice, she could feel his appreciation slip through as the end was lit and she took her first puff of the sweet tobacco. “Tastes like that cheap boutique shit, but it’ll do.”

“About to say, it’s all we got, and I’m not going out just to buy a pack you’ll like right now. Too fucking tired for that shit.” She added before taking another drag, propping herself up in the open window to flick off the ashes into the wind. Already she could feel some of her tension slipping away, and she wondered how much of that had belonged to Johnny in retrospect. 

“ _I know._ Can feel that too, Einstein.” He huffed, glitching over opposite to her and leaning against the windowsill.

“Well pardon me for not knowing exactly where _I_ end and _you_ begin.” She snarked, the belligerent tone of his voice striking a sensitive chord within her. She tossed the half-smoked cigarette out of spite, quickly hopping down before Johnny accidentally knocked her out the window while trying to grab it with a curse.

“Bitch!” He groaned, turned back to glare at V as she retreated to her bed. “Didn’t even finish the damn thing.”

“Nope.” She stated affirmatively, plopping down onto the sheets with a soft groan as she stretched the remaining tension out of her muscles. 

“Shoulda known it was too good to be true,” Johnny grumbled under his breath from the window, head hanging low between his shoulders. “You know you’re a _cunt_ , V?”

“And you’re a _dick_ , Johnny. Tell me something I don’t know.” She snarked back, putting her back to him as she turned over onto her side. 

Refusing to be ignored after her merciless tease of nicotine, Johnny manifested on the bed, propped up by the wall in front of her and stretching his legs out before him, determined to take up as much of her personal space as possible just to spite her. Irritation buzzed between the both of them, V snapping her head up in response with another barbed insult ready on her tongue. 

Instead, all that came out was, “Get. The. FUCK. Off my bed, Johnny.” 

“Or what? You finally gonna start playing nice? News flash, Princess. Sometimes you gotta give a little to get a little.” He retorted as he lit up another one of his good for nothing cigs. 

V’s jaw clenched in response, her mind immediately taking his words in a far more carnal fashion, spotting the unintentional innuendo instantly. A smirk pulled at Johnny’s lips as the thought floated into his field of understanding, his tone turned to tease and losing some of it’s razored edge. “Not exactly where I was going with that, but flattering all the same.”

“In your dreams, asshole.” He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, his smirk not yet fading away.

“We’ll see.” He taunted, chuckling softly as V slammed her face into her pillow with a groan.

For a moment, they slipped into a tense silence, something that was beginning to happen more and more often as the days progressed. Sometimes it was better just to drop it before things started to spiral out of hand again.

They weren’t at each other’s throats at all hours of the day anymore, but it still didn’t mean that communicating with one another had become enjoyable in the least. There were still a lot of things that V couldn’t wrap her mind around about Johnny and wondered if they would eventually be able to find any solid common ground between them. It had become part of the reason why sleep evaded her as of late, often times a migraine forming in the back of her skull.

One thought that continuously nagged her was the question of where their psyches started to blend. So far, it seemed that they shared basic sensations like hunger, pain, and exhaustion, even if there was some lag somewhere in the middle. V’s stomach would be growling for nearly an hour before Johhny would pipe up and berate her until she ate, for example. And it seemed that Johnny’s constant craving for nicotine was starting to affect V’s moods as well, their building irritation rebounding off one another and increasing until V eventually gave in, much like tonight.

The redundant cycle of emotions and sensations blurred the lines quite often and made it harder and harder to determine which ones belong to which individual. So when V felt the strange buzzing in the back of her head begin to suddenly amplify after being lost in thought for a while, she perked her eyes up to look at Johnny with a scowl on her face.

“Something’s eating at you, Johnny. Spit it out before you split my skull in half.” He snorted softly as he snuffed out his cig, flicking it haphazardly across the room and into cyberspace.

“Look who’s talking.” He huffed. “I knew women weren’t exactly capable of turning their brain off for anything, but I never knew one person could think _so_ fucking much about the _same shit_ over and over.”

“Well, I don’t exactly see you helping much over th--”

“What do you do to destress?” He cut her off suddenly, pushing his aviators to rest at the top of his head.

“What?”

“Gotta be something that gets you to finally unwind and stop thinking for just **_one_** _fucking_ moment.” He emphasized, a flurry of muddled images filtering through her mind, most likely a few of his own methods that he used to ‘take the edge off’.

The subtle taste of whiskey burned in the back of her throat as a line of shots came to mind. Getting lost in music hadn’t worked so far tonight so she didn’t focus too hard on that one, plus his taste in music was quite different than her own. Images of street fights and brawls landed closer to the money, but the thought of dull pain addling her senses brought forth another image into mind. 

A muddled mess of heat between two bodies, a chorus of moans and groans echoing in her head, hot and burning like their sweat-slicked skin.

V felt her face flame at the thought, cheeks burning brighter as she saw a knowing grin pull at his mouth in response. “So, that’s your poison then.”

“Fuck. Off. Silverhand.” She growled, embarrassed at the very notion of him putting that image in her head and fleeing into the kitchen for her bottle of tequila.

“Oh, no, Sweetheart. THAT one, that one was all you, my little depraved vixen.” V hadn’t had the chance to unscrew the top before he could finish his next thought. “Sure you wanna chance drinking that stuff? Since we both know how _well_ that went last time.” V didn’t have to turn around to see the smug grin on his face, feeling it instead as she lowered the bottle back to the counter with a harsh thunk and leaned her head back in annoyance. 

Of course, that would be the _one_ thing that he would bring up at a time like now, and against her wishes, the memory instantly replayed in her head. Her eyes rolled closed of their own accord with a sigh, feeling the ghost impression of cold metal pressing against her throat, warning and persistent. A shiver ran down her spine in response, jolting her back to her senses, where she could feel Johnny’s ego inflate with the corrupt knowledge now at his disposal. 

“Go to hell, Johnny.” She muttered venomously, shoving the bottle back across the counter in frustration as she vaguely registered that he was moving again in her peripherals. 

“And miss the show? Fuck no, not happening.” He goaded, practically purring in her ear as his warm breath ghosted over her skin. V had to repress the shiver that fluttered through her body, refusing to give him any further ground to stand on.

“There’s not gonna be a show, not if I can help it.” She insisted as she turned to phase through him without a second thought. Instead, she hit pure mass, knocked back into the edge of the counter as he caged her against it. 

Shock swam through her, taken aback by the fact that he appeared solid to her senses once more, which spelled danger in more than one fashion. Danger made very real and apparent by the gleaming look in his dark eyes. 

“Just do me one favor tonight, V…” He purred, his hand of flesh searching for her own. His fingers tangled briefly with hers until she felt him deposit something small into her palm, coaxing her fingers to wrap around the item before releasing them. “Better enjoy it tonight, take it slow. Big O hits harder that way.”

With that, he backed up a few steps, giving her some breathing room before dissipating back into cyberspace and into whatever crevice of her mind that he resided in. V looked down at the pill in her palm and paled, it’s blue color shimmering in the dim light of her apartment. Without any ceremony, she swallowed it quickly, refusing to think about whatever trap Johnny had intended to lay for her, and returned to bed. 

The sheets beneath her quickly warmed from the heat of her skin, the sound of her unsteady pulse echoing in her ears. Her head was quieter now in comparison to earlier but she still left the slight buzzing of his presence in the back of her mind, like the static that coursed persistently under her skin. She wasn’t crazy enough to think about fucking with the ghost of a dead man in her head yet, but the tempting picture that he had helped to paint in her mind did little to abate the growing need that she felt between her thighs. 

Experimentally, she called out for Johnny in her mind, wondering if he would still dare to rear his head while he could. When no answer or manifestation came, she decided that the pill had indeed worked and that she was safe for the moment. 

Still, the idea of her waking up to find that smug grin on his face in the morning felt too much to bear at the moment, so she begrudgingly turned over and willed her mind still enough to fall asleep.


	4. Strummed Like a Guitar (A.K.A 'You Were Fake, It Was Great. Nothing Personal')

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V expected a catch to follow Johnny's offer but she didn't intend for her own mind to be just as cruel.

V felt warm, almost too warm for it to be comfortable anymore as she roughly pushed the sheets away with her legs and to the foot of her bed, a faint sheen of sweat beading onto her skin. She teetered on the edge of sleep and wakefulness, her mind still caught in the fog of her dream.

  
Rough, calloused hands had pressed against her flesh, insistent and unyielding to the wry pleas that went unspoken from her lips. Heat pooled through her wherever they touched, the chill of the air quickly raising goosebumps to her skin as soon as the warmth left in their wake had dissipated, a constant shift of hot and cold playing at her nerves. It was as delicious as it was torturous. 

  
Deft fingers laced themselves into her hair, tugging persistently but oh so sweetly, the gentle burn in her roots grounding her as chapped lips ravaged the skin of her neck. A harsher nip at the skin pulled a soft breath from her lips, a strangled groan dying in her throat as those dangerous lips moved to caress her collarbones and further still, a skilled tongue laving gently over the sensitive scrapes that teeth had left, bruising her flesh. 

  
V could hardly breathe from the thickness of the air, a poisonous concoction of lust and desire that permeated her senses and struck her deeply, down to her core. With the haze that filled her mind, her hands roamed in a near-distraught fashion in search of her would-be-lover, desperate for more contact. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest against her body with every breath, could feel his hands purposely roaming across every expanse of skin he could reach, and his wet mouth against her, marking her, claiming her, but it was not enough; not nearly enough.

  
Her searching hands moved over a set of strong shoulders to his neck and further up, fingers gently lacing in soft tresses as she tugged him closer, aching to taste him. Hot and shallow breaths mingled with her own in a pregnant pause, a thumb swiping over her bottom lip with a tease, the lips that she wanted against her own just a hair’s breadth away. She leaned into him only to watch him pull away, a cocky grin pulling at his lips as a dark chuckle echoed in her ears. 

  
The sinful sound made her chest constrict as if it had reverberated in her very soul, taunting, and teasing. He knew exactly what she wanted, but he had denied her for the moment. He would take his time with her, dragging out this sadistic game of his until she broke, and only when he wanted her to. Strangely, V became content at the idea of surrendering her control, just this once she promised herself, her arousal coursing through her veins consistent and unabated.

  
Lecherous words dripping with lewd promises were whispered into her mind, soft and subtle in their tone despite the roughness of his body against hers, coaxing further whimpers past her lips and her hips jerking in response. 

  
A soft peck on the corner of her mouth pulled another groan of frustration from her before his mouth moved to pepper open mouth kisses and nips at her jawline, his hands moving back down her body and tugging her clothing away. Although it wasn’t what she had immediately wanted, her need continued to rise steadily with anticipation for what was to come, the warmth of his body against hers feeding a craving that V had consistently ignored for so long.

  
Her shorts had barely left her legs before she registered that his hand was between her thighs, her legs spread willingly onto either side of his hips with a meek whimper. A deep groan of appreciation fell from his lips as his fingers slipped in with ease, pulling a soft moan from her in response. Unable to take her eyes off him, as if starstruck, her cheeks flamed as she watched him bring his hand up to taste her on his fingers, a shuttering moan falling from her lips.

  
Dutifully, his hand returned, albeit with another smirk gracing his features. V’s soft moans mingled with the beat of her pulse in her ears as his fingers worked her, nearly drowning out the string of lustful praises and encouragements that poured from his mouth. 

  
‘More, darling, come on,’ He coaxed, pulling her hands away from her mouth with his free hand so that she couldn’t muffle her sounds, his touch turned cool against her heated skin. Dark eyes roamed her body, drinking her in as she lay near helpless to the surges of pleasure he brought her. Her nerves felt like live wires beneath her skin, as hot and burning as his gaze, muscles coiling tightly as skilled fingers worked her closer and closer to the brink.

  
When she reached for him again, her fingertips grazed across his facial hair as she pulled him to her, and his lips against hers. He leaned into her willingly this time and she tasted the lingering essence of herself on his lips, bittersweet in its flavor before his tongue invaded her mouth.

  
She groaned against his mouth, the burning taste of whiskey and nicotine mingling into the kiss. It was absolutely filthy, the way he kissed her, a mess of teeth and tongue on her lips as she struggled to keep pace with him. He held her jaw tightly as he angled her face, kissing her so deeply that her breath became his and vice versa. She thought that she might drown with the constant assault on her senses, his fingers never once faltering in their rhythm as he opened up her body to himself, a faint buzzing in the back of her mind as her lungs burned for renewed breath.

  
When their lips finally parted, V’s first full breaths of air left her head spinning as his hand at her jaw moved to wrap around her neck, not enough to suppress her air yet again but in possession. Her reeling mind could barely register the words falling off his lips before his thumb grazed over her clit once again, and all too quickly, she tipped over the edge.

  
Her back arched with the strain of her orgasm as it washed unexpectedly through her, blissful in its heat as she finally felt the tension snap within her, a broken whimper torn from her throat as her remaining breath seized all at once. Faint flashes of light danced behind her eyelids, eyes screwed shut as her throat burned gently from the shuttering moans that were torn from her.

  
As the waves finally crested and settled, she pried her eyes open as she panted for breath, the sharp pleasure soon settling to a dull throb in her veins. Above her was not the man from her dreams, but instead the dull plaster ceiling of her apartment. Her throat was sore and as was her head, the fog slowly clearing into soft static while her pulse slowly calmed into a steadier rhythm. 

  
Shame filled her as shock pulled her into full wakefulness, weighing down her body along with the fatigue leftover from possibly the most intense orgasm of her life. Balled fists slammed onto the mattress beneath her as she recalled each excruciating detail before it could fade away, the taste of tobacco and whiskey still fresh on her tongue.

  
Johnny.

  
She didn’t want it to be him. She would have taken anyone else, literally. It could have anyone from her list of exes or even some random joy toy or doll that she would pass every day while on the streets, but she cursed beneath her breath that the man who had given her such an experience was _him_ of all people. He was already the bane of her existence, the reason that she would live, and the reason that she would die, all simultaneously. 

Her eyes landed on the blue bottle of beta-blockers on her kitchen table and made a mad dash for them, her feet tangling in the sheets and tripping her onto the floor before she could grab her footing. She immediately dumped two pills into her palm upon seizing the bottle and swallowed them dry, irritating her burning throat and making her eyes water in response. With the pills down, she slumped to the floor as she eyed at the clock in the armory through blurry eyes, midmorning by the looks of it.

  
She thanked whatever god or stars that watched over her that Johnny had not surfaced to fight her first thing, but the telltale ringing in the back of her skull meant that he was not quite happy that he had been suppressed against his will this time around. This also meant that until this next dose kicked into full gear, it would be best to clear her mind and go about her morning routine as usual. She was sure that he would interrogate her the moment he reared his ridiculously attractive face again and she did not want him catching on quite yet, or at all if she could help it.

  
She paused as she pulled herself off the floor, shaking her head gently with disdain as she realized what thought had just flown through her head. Johnny Silverhand, attractive? She scoffed at the thought, but only out of means of convincing herself otherwise, no matter what she had dreamed. No matter whatever fantasy it was that her hormones had concocted.

  
As she traipsed to the shower, her muscles feeling strangely loose already despite the renewed anxiety in the pit of her stomach, she wondered how difficult it would be to hide the evidence of her dream from Johnny. Pulling her shirt over her head, the mirror shimmered to reveal her pale frame to her, her face blanching as she saw the trails of red marks littering her skin flicker into existence as well. 

  
Scratch marks marred the flesh over her sides and V quickly wondered if she had accidentally done that in her sleep despite her blunted nails. Something in the back of her mind told her otherwise, however, doubt settling as to how well those beta-blockers were working. Even so, whether it was another illusion of the mind or not, one fact remained.

  
V wouldn’t be able to keep this secret to herself for long, not with Johnny constantly in her head, and eventually, she would have to face him again and any of the barbed responses he could possibly employ in his reaction. She couldn’t count on him being silent about something like this, not when it came to matters involving himself. His ego wouldn’t allow it, and he would never let her live this down.

  
Never.


End file.
